Sunny Came Home
by The Panasonic Princess
Summary: When he was fifteen, Ryou Bakura discovered the existence of a spirit in his Millennium Ring. Two years later, he woke up. Gen.


This started out as a funny piece about birthdays (and Ryou missing two of his), but then it morphed into this bizarre thing. I still kinda wanna write the fic about Ryou deciding to throw himself a "16th and 17th" birthday party.

My continuity may be a little borked concerning the time between the destruction of Yami Bakura and the last duel between Yami and Yugi. Let's pretend that's totally cool, yes?

---

All he remembered of the trip back home from Egypt was food and sleep. There had been plenty of both available to him, and it seemed his body had needed every bit.

There was an emptiness in his head and a lightness around his neck that he wasn't sure was comforting.

It meant he was free, of course. And he should have been happy. He should have been thrilled. He should have sang and danced and rejoiced. He had his body back, at last. He was back in control of his own life, alone in his head.

It felt oddly bittersweet.

---

He was inside his apartment five minutes before his mind slowed down enough to notice the changes.

There wasn't a thing out of place in his small, lonely home, but everything felt—different. Everything seemed a bit shorter, a bit smaller, just enough to make him feel off-balance.

Yugi had mentioned that he'd been asleep for a while. How long exactly?

There was a computer in his room that he only dimly remembered putting there. He pushed the little button to turn it on. Maybe it would hold some clue as to what he'd been doing, and how long he'd been...away.

He collapsed into the comfy leather office chair that had been pushed up against his desk. The computer finished loading—there was a picture of him and Amane set as the desktop background. Surely, the spirit of the Ring wouldn't be so sentimental as to dig out his photo album and scan a picture for his desktop. He must have done it himself.

He dragged the little arrow down to the bottom right-hand corner to display the date, and nearly fainted.

---

"Two years!" Ryou cried as Yugi handed him a mug of something hot and sweet-smelling. Tea? "I've missed two years of my life."

"We meant to talk to you about it, Bakura-kun," Yugi said, apologetic, as he sat on the couch beside him. Ryou had run straight out of his apartment and right to Yugi's house, and Yugi hadn't seemed surprised to see him. "Things got so crazy in Egypt. And you ran out of the airport so quickly when we touched down, we didn't have the chance to talk to you."

"I just wanted to go home," Ryou explained quietly. "Since I hadn't seen it in so long, I suppose." He hiccuped as Yugi put a hand on his arm.

"But you're back," Yugi said, smiling. "You get to live your life now. No more Items, no more spirits." His eyes grew distant and sad. "It's all over."

Ryou sighed. He had lost two years, but Yugi had lost his best friend. He'd nearly forgotten.

He laughed, breaking the silence.

"What is it, Bakura-kun?"

Ryou looked up at Yugi. "I'm seventeen now." He said. "I've missed two birthdays."

Yugi smiled too. "Maybe we should celebrate. We could get you a cake that reads 'Happy 15th and 16th Birthday'"

"It would be fun to explain to the baker."

They laughed together, but it only lasted a moment before they grew quiet and serious again.

"What happened to me?"

"How far back?" Yugi asked, looking sad.

Ryou considered the question, frowning, then said, "After the duel in the forest with the other me, I suppose. That was when I really started losing time." Yugi sighed.

"You've missed so much," he said, taking Ryou's hand. "I'm so sorry."

"It's hardly your fault," Ryou comforted him, then pressed on. "What happened?"

Yugi explained, in as much detail as he could manage, what the spirit of the Ring had been doing with his body for the past two years. Duelist Kingdom, the Battle City tournament, this other self trapping everyone in the memory world. It was like listening to some fantastic story, not a retelling of what he'd actually done with his own body.

For the first time in years, he was getting used to the idea.

"You seemed awake for most of it, though," Yugi told him, "like at school. You kept up with your homework, got good grades, sat with us at lunch...we figured he only came out when he really needed to. You really don't remember anything?"

The spirit of the Ring had imitated him before, but would he have really went that far to maintain the illusion? Ryou shook his head. "Bits and pieces, like I said. I remember going to school, but not two years' worth of it. I imagine if I had lost two years of memories and I had been aware of it, I would have been more worried."

"Maybe that was the spirit of the Ring's doing," Yugi reasoned, frowning. "When I first solved the Puzzle, I was losing time all over the place. The more aware of it I became, the more control I gained over the other me, until I was finally able to stop him from taking over at will. Maybe the spirit of the Ring was erasing your memory whenever you got too aware of him, to keep you from being able to control him."

Ryou wanted to laugh.

Even after his death, the other Bakura still had an impact.

---

Eventually, the sun set, and night fell, and it was time for him to go home. His apartment was the same as when he'd left it. Nothing disturbed or out of place. It felt as though a tornado should have come through and knocked everything around by now.

His fingers went to his arm, running over the raised scar. It was the last thing he remembered clearly, waking up in an alley with a handsome tanned boy—Malik—standing over him, looking concerned and asking if he'd like to be taken to a hospital. He'd woken up in strange places and in stranger situations, but that had been the most frightening.

He had the strangest feeling he'd been in the air. As in, on a plane, but on the roof. There had been a shooting pain in his arm and a giant dragon in his face. Among the few memories he did have, that one was his least favorite.

He curled up on the couch. The remote control was on the coffee table before him, but he couldn't muster the desire to pick it up and turn the television on, even for the comfort and normality of the noise.

Everything was wrong. This place wasn't his own. It was _his_.

It was like a fog was lifting. His thoughts became crystal clear and focused on one thing.

The first to go was the table, mainly because it was closest. The legs were sturdy and hard to break, but he managed.

The kitchen chairs required the use of an old crowbar he found in the back of his closet. The crunching and splintering was satisfying.

The computer was heavy. He had to carry it out piece by piece, but it shattered neatly on top of the coffee table and the remains of the chairs.

Bit by bit, every non-memory went into the pile. Books he didn't remember reading but could recall the plot and characters of, pictures of him and his friends he didn't remember sitting for, clothes he didn't buy and would never think to wear.

When he was finished, the pile was taller than him and spanned the width of his living room. He stood back and admired his work.

He'd found a little box in a little drawer in his little kitchen. Inside the little box were dozens of little sticks.

He pulled out a match, struck the head against the side of the box, and dropped it.

---

Half an hour later, he was standing amongst his neighbors on the sidewalk, watching the last two years of his life burn away. The fire hadn't spread much, the firefighters said, but his apartment couldn't be salvaged. They were very sorry.

Yugi stood next to him, not looking half as shocked as Ryou would have liked.

"Feel better?" he asked.

Ryou's eyes never left the building. Just beyond that smoky, broken window, his nightmare was burning.

He smiled, for real, at last.

"Yes."

---

_Light the sky and hold on tight_

_The world is burning down_

_She's out there on her lawn and she's alright_

_Sunny came home._

_---_

The title makes sense if you can decipher the actual meaning of the song by Shawn Culvins. What I thought was a sweet song about a woman returning home and doing some repairs is actually a rather violent piece about moving on after a traumatic experience (in the case of the woman in the song, finding out her husband is cheating on her, but I thought the overall idea still applied).


End file.
